


Weak

by NeverNever



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNever/pseuds/NeverNever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, Tony Stark made Captain America weak in the knees, because Steve wanted to kneel for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This was started after the first Avengers movie, didn't have enough steam to finish or continue. But now that there is a second one...  
> Most of the first chapters were written a couple of year ago, please point out any mistakes you might see.  
> There is no beta, if anyone wants to volunteer. All mistakes are my own. Hooray!

Tony Stark made Steve Rogers weak in the knees. Not because he was celebrity handsome, or that he was a _genius – billionaire-playboy-philanthropist –_ Steve could say that in one breath now- who exuded sexuality like it was going out of style. No, Tony Stark made Captain America weak in the knees, because Steve wanted to kneel for him. The presence of Tony in a room was enough to make Steve want to drop to his knees in front of the man, he made Steve’s blood rush, made his head spin. There was nothing in the world that Steve wanted more, than to see Tony standing over him, than feel the control of a dominant like Stark. It was that or someone make Bucky right in the head again.All this was good and well, but Steve had one tiny problem, Tony Stark was straight. Yep, adventurous, larger than life, I-Don’t-Believe-In-Boring-Normality Tony Stark was straight as an arrow. And he had a very-traditional- specific type, judging by the tropes of blonde haired, large busted ladies who made regular appearances in Tony’s private rooms in Stark Tower.

In a world where everyone was born Dominant or Submissive, it was only too easy for people to forget that Steve Rogers wasn’t always this; he had been sickly before the serum, unable to keep up with Bucky in the schoolyard. Captain America was the image of dominance, tall and broad, no one remembered the thin, feeble young man from before. Not even the Avengers remembered, and so everyone assumed that the All-American Golden Boy was a dominant, a very shy and introverted one at that, because Steve never – ever showed interest in any submissive – or anyone.

“If I had half of the girls who threw themselves at you,” Clint says wishfully at breakfast one morning as the flat-screen broad casted a line of swooning fans in front of a Captain America franchise.  
Steve only smiles as Natasha buries her elbow in Clint’s stomach.

After New York, the Avengers had all gone their separate ways, but that really didn’t last long, eventually they all settled into Stark Tower – since Tony had gone out of his way to make a suite for each of them, how he knew so much about them made Steve’s head spin. It had been great at first, the idea of living with people he knew. Since he woke up from the ice, Steve realized not only was he out of his own time, but he didn’t have anyone left. New York hadn’t changed all that much, but it still didn’t feel like home. The food tastes weird, the aired smelled wrong, and Steve did not remember there being this many pigeons before. There was an entrenched ache within him, like he was missing something that was never coming back. All his friends were gone, he had no family – the Avengers were sort of it for him. So he had moved into the tower with everyone else, and besides, it wasn’t like he could even afford Brooklyn these days.  
Natasha and Clint made it their life’s work to catch Steve up with every movie, documentary and TV show they could find- when they weren’t off on missions to god knows where, Steve was still amazed at how many ridiculous ideas people had about Nazi’s, and what is the deal with children beauty pageants, those made Steve shudder, but he liked most of the stuff they showed him, even if some of the stories were horrible. Steve was always amazed at the graphics; they really did that with computers? He often wondered if JARVIS would tell him how to do that, since JARVIS had taken up responsibility in teaching Steve about the wonders of the internet. The first time Steve had stumbled upon porn – it made the dirty pictures they hid under their mattresses in the bunker look a coloring book.

But it was living with Tony, having the man constantly around that made Steve regret moving into the tower. Steve knew the man was a Dominant the moment they met, but there had been so much happening then that Steve simply failed to remember his own biology. Actually, Steve never thought he would look at Howard’s son like this. The urge to kneel down at Tony’s feet had come one morning, as he watched Tony slurp coffee in his red pajama pants in the kitchen. Steve wanted so badly to press his face into the curve of Tony’s hip, and feel heat of Tony’s skin against his.  
Steve had pivoted quickly out of the kitchen door way and back to his rooms before Tony could realize he’d been there. Alone in his bedroom, Steve pressed his face into his bedroom wall and chalked up the small internal crises as the lack of human contact.

70 years in the ice will do that to a fellow. Steve made a mental note to get out more, or maybe just spend more time on the internet.

But the urges grew; it consumed Steve slowly. The longer Steve spent in Tony’s presence, the longer he listened to Tony’s voice, the harder he wanted, the more he craved. Just once, Steve would so much like to kneel.

  
\---

  
“You’ll call me, won’t you Tony darling?” The high-pitched squeal of a female voice draws Steve from his morning paper- no matter what Tony and the other says, the slippery metal digital paper– tablet – Tony had shoved at Steve one morning while muttering something about out-of-date, and killing trees, is just not the same- to look at a disheveled Tony, dressed in red and gold pajama pants- pushing a reluctant blonde into the penthouse elevator.

  
“Mhm. Yes, sure. Thank you for the ride –” Tony wiggles his fingers in a wave as the elevator dings shut.

  
Steve’s lungs seem to forget how to function for a split second; the breath freez in his chest as he felt a twist of jealousy, and what number was she?

  
“7.” Clint mumbles over his overly buttered toast – seemingly reading Steve’s thoughts and Steve tries very hard not to choke on the jealousy clogging his throat.They watch as Tony drag himself into the kitchen, half asleep again; Steve can hear Tony mumble about coffee and clingy submissive.Still shirtless and smelling faintly of sex, Tony plops himself down besides Steve- and it takes all of his willpower to not ask Tony if he could get him some clothes.

  
“So,” Tony slurps the coffee. “What’s on your fascinating agendas for today?”

  
“Clint is taking me to the museum.” Steve says around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, hoping it’s hide the tightness of his voice.Tony’s dark brows shoot up into his messy hair; Clint looks just a bit over eager.

  
“They’re havin´ that exhibition on sex,” he grins at Steve “figured I’d take our Cap here, see if it’ll jog his memory a bit.”

  
Steve frowns into cup of chocolate milk.The thing is, Steve isn’t as traditional as people would think. Sure, he is sort of old fashioned by default, 70 years and all that. But he isn’t all that uptight, he was in the _military_ – he _is_ in the military. No one ever seems to remember that. Steve thinks about sex quite a lot, he thinks about the things he would like to try quite a lot too. Steve just doesn´t have anyone to do it with, admittedly, having internet nowadays helps. Sure, he still has his hand and an imagination, but it just isn’t the same. Unlike before, every time Steve imagines a Dominate over him, he seesTony. It would seem that living so close to someone his body deemed so compatible was changing him slowly. As he drifts out of his reverie, he catches the last of Tony’s comment.

  
“-it’d be fun. Always a pleasure to see the Capsicle out of depth.” Another slurp.

  
Clint chuckles and Steve’s stomach promptly lets him know that breakfast is no longer welcome.

  
\---

  
The exhibition on sex turns out to be just that. Steve had no idea there was so much informative stuff about it, he expected a couple of colorful illustrations maybe a couple of dirty pictures, but this. He’s been breathless from the moment they stepped into the hallway. Tony talks on endlessly, each display seems to remind him of something – someone. Steve listens to every word even though it made him burn with jealousy and want.

  
“That-”Tony waves his shades at a large 3D montage of something Steve couldn’t really name. “that was one of my more adventurous dates – some reported girl I found at a charity a couple of years back – took me a solid 15 minutes to convince her –” A smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, Steve wonders if anyone ever needed convincing from Tony Stark “- wasn’t even worth it in the end – too meek for it to actually be fun –”

  
Tony’s gaze narrows in on Steve, “Don’t you ever get the urge Cap?”

  
“Urge for what?” Steve was pretty sure he knew- but a second’s stalling would let him better answer the question.

  
“Oh you know- not be old and boring-” Tony tease. “Have someone under your hand – bend her to your will – mold her to your liking – make her beg-” Tony made it sound like they were talking about pizza toppings.

  
“Actually I- I don’t -”

  
“What? Too scared you’ll break them in half?” Tony goes on. “I know a couple of ladies who wouldn’t mind being broken by Captain America.”

  
They stop in front of another display, this one Steve recognizes. “See – this,” Tony tilts his chin at it. “This is my one of my personal favorites.” Steve’s throat goes dry at that thought.

  
“But seriously Cap, you gotta have some urges- if the whole plundering and taking isn’t your thing – though I can’t see why.” Tony’s words plucks at his nerves, Steve is desperately aware of his body, the heat pooling just between his legs, and the weakness at his knees - the way he wanted – so hopelessly and so desperately.  
They pause in front of a short motion picture – it’s some sort of holographic illustration on Dominant and Submissive genes. How each person was born a certain way, the traits they would all present and the need – the connection they had with one another. Tony’s going on about another conquest of his while Clint and Natasha are focused on an anatomical drawing; Natasha looks contemplative while Clint grins beside her,

  
“Doesn’t that look a bit like –?”

  
Steve is sure he could almost see her smile – “Kiev?”

  
Clint makes a noise that sounded like he remembered something important. “Kiev- I was gonna say Helsinki – but Kiev does suit it better.” Natasha simply nods; Steve thought she looked a bit wistful. Those two seriously confused him.

  
A sharp jab in his ribs draws his attention back to Tony. “Where are the good ol’ American manners I heard so much about that it’s been imprinted inside my skull? Here I was, telling you my most intimately fascinating life and you were off staring at those two –”

  
Steve flushes slightly – “Sorry.” he mumbles

  
“When was the last time you got laid, old timer?”

  
Steve huffs in slight impatience at Tony. “I told you two weeks ago-”

  
“No, Captain Obvious, I asked you two weeks ago and you choked on your chocolate milk and didn’t answer.”

  
“Thought that was answer enough,” Steve can’t really meet Tony’s eyes, he knows that if he did, he might say things that he’ll regret .

  
“Look Cap-” Tony’s voice has an edge of concern to it. “If you need a hook-up –”

  
“I don’t need you to be my matchmaker.”

  
“Matchmaker?” Tony sputters, outraged. “I’m not trying to hitch you to a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Though I think it’d be easier to talk you into that,” he glares at Steve. “I’m just sayin´ I got contacts- professionals if you need that sorta thing.”

  
“I do not need that sort of thing.” Steve hisses, hoping none of the super assassins hear him..

  
Tony quiets down for a full three minutes before resuming the topic.

\---

  
Two nights later, Steve finds himself sternly telling Tony- as sternly as he can manage- that he did not indeed need a hook up. Tony is slumped in the overly stuffed sofa that this century was so fond of, next to Steve while Bruce and Thor are a couple of feet away having an animated discussion about the difference between magic and science – Thor insists that Midgardians simply did not understand science enough and eventually what they call magic will be known – Bruce on the other hand, says he isn’t sure that valor and honor are ever going to be part of physics.

Steve really hopes they didn’t hear Tony as he rumbles on drunkenly, “´m just sayin´ Solider Boy, all that pent up stuff isn’t good for you – I know this great girl- Christy- Chrissie- whatever.” Tony waves a dismissive hand when Steve opens his mouth to protest.  
“She does wonders,”

  
“Tony- I do not need a good time girl.” This is not a conversation he should be having, especially not with Tony – the one man after Bucky that made Steve want to give up everything.

  
“Good time girl? Oh solider boy,” Tony tilts his tumbler at Steve. “You don’t even have to have sex with her, just – she’s a great sub.”

  
“I don’t need that either-”

  
“JARVIS call Christy for Cap here – see if she’s free today-”

  
Jarvis replies promptly “Sir. You should be aware that the young lady’s name is Crystal.”

  
Tony topples over on the sofa, half between laying and sitting and waves his tumbler at the ceiling. “Get her for us Jarvis.”

  
“No. Jarvis- stop. Don’t call- Tony stop it.” Steve really hopes that Bruce and Thor hasn’t heard anything.

  
“I shall hold off any calls until further notice, Sir is currently at 0.11 percent blood alcohol content-”

  
“I did not program you this way.” Tony hollers at the ceiling.

  
“No Sir, you allowed Miss Potts to add the “Prevent Tony from Making Horrible Decisions” feature last May.” Tony mutters something about donations and children centers while JARVIS bids Steve good evening.

  
“Tony.” Steve leans closer to the now sprawled figure. He isn’t entirely sure that Tony would even remember this conversation come morning, but still – that might not be such a bad thing.

  
“Why won’t you let me get you laid?” Tony points an accusing finger at Steve.

  
“I- I” There is just no easy way out of this one. “It’s not that I object to you trying to help me, it’s just, the – the matches you are making-” Tony gives Steve a deeply perplexed look.

  
“Are you saying blonds aren’t your thing? Because they are everyone’s thing – even when they aren’t people’s thing- they are- blondes,”

  
“I don’t like women.” Well that had not been what he meant to say, he had meant to tell Tony that he wasn’t a dominant, that he didn’t crave the rush of control – of power because that isn’t how to was biologically programed.

  
“What?” Tony’s eyes widen comically. “But – but that girl – you have a picture of her in your freaking pocket watch.”

  
“It’s not a pocket watch –” Steve retort “Peggy you mean, she – and I, it was different, after Bucky was gone –”

  
“So that was needs must thing?” Tony shoots up to face Steve.

  
“There was a war, there was no time, she –” Steve is uncomfortably aware of Tony’s closeness the feel Tony’s breath against his skin, hot and – Steve jerks back a few inches.

  
“Well, hell on flaming wheels – Captain America – hero of golden American traditions, epitome of righteousness –” Steve wishes Tony wouldn’t say it like that.

  
“Tony-”  
“Oh, don’t get me wrong Cap, there ain’t nothing wrong with that- hell – I’m just surprised,”

  
Steve kind of wants to crawl under a table and maybe stay there for a while. He’d imagined this scenario over and over again, but this wasn’t that far from what he’d imagined.

  
“Do you have anyone for me now?” Why did he say that? Steve clamps his lips shut, like that would help more ridiculous questions.

  
Tony actually looks like he was thinking about that.

  
“Sorry Cap, men aren’t really my thing.” Steve had guessed that much, but it still winded him like he’d taken a blow to the chest.

  
“Yea, I sort of guessed that much.” Steve hopes that did sound as bitter as he felt.

  
Tony only smirks. “I do have impeccable taste don’t I?”

  
“Have you ever – you know –with a man?” He’s just told Tony he was gay and still couldn’t make himself say sex.

  
“Oh, no, no, no – no- no, I – no , no no.” Tony’s shaking his head.

  
Eight no’s to that question. Alright, Steve really isn’t that surprised that Tony’s heterosexuality, he is however, surprised at how hard it still hit him. After months of watching supermodels, reporters and the random scientist do the walk of shame out of Stark Tower, Steve thought he’d had it under control by now.  
Moreover, Steve thought he would handle this better. It wasn’t as if Steve ever had hope, heck that was Tony Stark genius – billionaire-playboy-philanthropist – straight. There was never a doubt in his mind that, he – a kid from Brooklyn would never have a chance. But it still felt like someone made him drink acid, it burned him, every breath was scolding and painful.

  
Steve manages a smile as Tony flops back down face first into the sofa and mumbles into it. “JARVIS- ask Christy if she’s got hot male friends, would ya?”

  
“Yes Sir.” Steve never thought a disembodied voice could sound exasperated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. I might have completely ignored a couple of things from AOU. Please point out any mistakes. Thank you. Motivation is highly welcome.

Steve once read that life happens where ever you are, in was in one of the books the drowned himself in, he didn’t actually remember the book itself, but that stayed with him. Life did happen, it happened when he was small and sickly, curled up under too thin blankets in the orphanage. It happened when he went to war and he and Bucky had spent countless nights fighting and then hiding. It happened after Bucky was gone and the aching hollowness consumed him, it happened when he had met Peggy, and it happened while he was under the ice suspended in momentum for 70 years.

And it happens now, as much as Steve ached and wanted, nothing changed. Tony Starks will never be Steve’s dominant, or so Steve tried to resign himself to that thought. So he carried on as if nothing was wrong, it wasn’t all that easy - Steve’s hormones, which did not get the memo that Tony was _straight_ and not interested, proceeded to drive Steve up the wall with need every time Tony was around – or not even around. There just wasn’t enough bad guys around these days, SHIELD apparently though Captain America wasn’t good enough for regular Special Ops anymore, there just wasn´t enough work related stuff to do. “Catch up on the new age” they said. So, Steve tried to distract himself, he ran twice a day – read every single book he could get his hands on and picked up cooking and feeding everyone who lived in the toward – or dropped by on occasion, and maybe for the homeless who lived around the tower.

“Good evening Captain Rogers, today’s meal plan shall begin with a green leaf salad with lime and macadamia dressing, followed by chicken cacciatore as the meal course and chocolate chestnut cake for dessert.”

Steve has no idea where JARVIS came with these things; it was usually composed of things Steve had never eaten before and sometimes never seen before. But the team never complained, Clint made faces sometimes- but Tony always ate – _everyone_ , Steve corrects himself sternly. Everyone always ate.

It would be lying if Steve said the cooking had nothing to do with Tony, he hadn’t intended it that way, it was supposed to be a distraction from – well, Tony. And the pleasure it had given Steve to watch Tony enjoy what he made – Steve was going to pretend that had nothing to do with the reason why he cooked every day now.

Clint is the first to turn up for dinner, as per usual– favoring whatever main course and refusing to touch the salad until Natasha shows up and forcefully put some on his plate, she watches with vehement intent as he blunders his way through forkfuls of green while eyeing the cake.

Half way through Steve realizes that Bruce hasn’t shown up, so Steve heaps some chicken on a plate and goes off to find him. He finds Bruce on the lab floor, face buried in a pile of paper

“Hey.” Steve taps lightly on the glass, unwilling to test Tony’s Hulk-proofing abilities. Bruce’s head snaps up and his glasses slips down his nose, he looks tired but happy to see Steve – or the food.

 

 

When Steve gets back to the kitchen, Thor was there and animatedly congratulates Steve on his feast as he stuffs himself – directly from one of the pans. Steve learned after the first meal to make Thor portions and in separate pans. Bruce and Clint are eagerly chatting as Thor asks question after question to Natasha about the female Midgardian ways, as she – to Steve’s surprise- gives him honest and perplexing answers. Tony still doesn’t show up by the end of the meal, as everyone drifted off to the living area to watch the News – something Steve had instated they do on a daily bases because “they couldn’t afford to fall behind on any world development.” Even after Tony had pointedly made the point that, SHIELD would never allow them that luxury. Now they mostly watched reruns and reality TV – Thor found the fact that “mortals would allow themselves to be publicly humiliated for the pleasure of others” endlessly amusing. Steve loads the dishwasher, one of the few things of this age he had more than happily gotten on board with. Cooking was one thing, but Steve hated the cleanup. He quietly contemplates. It wasn’t the first time Tony misses dinner, but there was that nagging thought in Steve’s mind that submissive part of him that wanted to make sure Tony was taken care of – Steve wanted to step on that part of his brain.

\---

The workshop is as it always is, brightly lit and Steve could hear Black Sabbath over the sound system – he can also hear JARVIS’ patient voice.

“Sir. If you apply anymore centric force to that –” There’s a muffled boom and Tony yelps.

“- you will overtax the capacity.”

“JARVIS. Data for pressure capacity on the chest plate -” Tony shouts as DUM-E whirs and rolls over one of Tony’s feet. “I swear, I will donate you to a kindergarten.”

Steve knocks softly on the glass, trying for Tony’s attention.

“Sir. If you would, Captain Rogers is here to see you – with dinner.”

Tony’s head whips around to see Steve standing beyond the glass, dinner tray in hand.

“Dinner? It can’t be dinner- it’s – JARVIS what time it is?”

“10:41PM Sir.”

The glass door slides open and Steve steps through.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He sets the tray on a relatively empty surface and doesn’t meet Tony’s eyes.

“You never bring me food. You usually keep it in those housewife Tupperware things until I starve to death and go hunting for food.” Busy hands already tearing into the chicken.

Steve’s fists squeezed into fists, he couldn’t very well say, _I couldn’t make my inner submissive shut up so I brought you food so I could get some peace_ – now could he.

“There’s green salad with lime dressing – chicken-”

Tony is looking at him inquisitively around a mouthful of chicken.

“Oh my god this is amazing,” Tony rumbles over another oversized piece of chicken, and makes a happy noise that makes Steve’s heart swell with pride and joy. That is _not_ _healthy_ – he pushes it down a bit.

Tony inhales the chicken cacciatore with happy noises while Steve desperately focuses on pushing the thought of kneeling down besides the man and leaning against the warm strength of his leg out of his mind.

Tony starts on the dessert while Steve watches, heart in throat with anticipation – he wanted to hear it so badly – another praise from Tony. Just one more and he’d leave the man alone to work.

“Is this chestnut? Oh god,” Tony moans a little and does indecent things to the spoon that makes Steve flush slightly, Steve thinks he might end up on his knees regardless of what his brain thinks on the matter.

“You know Cap – you’d make a great sub – the cooking – the serving, hell if Captain America didn’t scream Dominant-” the rest of the sentences gets swallowed by another bite of cake and a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve’s knuckles have gone white with the effort of keeping his mouth shut.

What would Tony say if Steve ever told him he was a submissive? _Don’t be a dolt_ – it’s one thing to say it, it’s another for a team of dominants to accept a submissive to lead them, he would be deemed unfit, submissive didn’t make great leaders, they didn’t command, there would always that shadow of weakness. And then what would happen? Steve would lose the only group of people he considered to be his friends, SHIELD would probably do nothing though– it isn’t like this is news to them – unless they assumed the serum covered that too. Strangely, that was someone no one tested him on. But he could lose his place in the Avengers, the only thing he had in this century- it would be unbearable to roam this cold and sleek century alone.

Tony eats everything but the salad, “Tony, you should eat the green stuff too.”

“Na, Dummy makes me shakes with green crap in it already-” Dummy whirs in interest at his name.

Steve looks at Tony, face plastered in dismay, “Come on- “” Steve pulls on Tony’s shirt as the other makes to walk away from the tray.

“No, mother. I will not eat my vegetables, and since I’ve already eaten dessert, you don’t have anything to bargain with.” He smirks and drops back in his chair - tapping lazily at the displays of blue, as he heaves a content sigh.

 

 ---

 

The attack comes on a Tuesday; they assemble and fight just like every other time - Steve upfront and in charge.

A deep rumble of crumbling buildings follows a deafening boom - the screech of car alarms and the frantic screams of civilians snap Steve’s attention to his left, he can see Clint perched adjunct aiming an arrow while the rooftop gets covered in broken metal and flame.

“Iron Man.” Steve shouts into the comm. “Iron Man, what is your status?”

“ETA 45 seconds Cap.” Tony’s voice in his ear, “I got 6 on my tail and 15 incoming.”

Steve swears under his breath, these aren’t the Chitauri but no one knows what they are, or where they are coming from, all Steve knows is that the darkly dressed, faceless constructs riding on what seem to be scorpion shaped robots that can scale buildings - are swarming everywhere.

The constructs looked like humans- Steve had though they were human until Tony had advised them otherwise. “No heat signatures Cap,” They are wearing something Steve thinks looks like Tony’s under armor, except it was black, with a hood and cowl that covered their heads and faces, there were no eye holes, featureless – Steve found that more disturbing then the ravaged faces of the Chitauri.

Ever since the Chitauri, earth had become vulnerable, though they’d sent the Tesserate off with Thor, it seemed the other realms still thought earth was ready for a higher form of war.

“Cap, Jolly green found the origin of the attack. There’s a rift under the storage off 55th street.”

“Get the Widow and I’ll meet you there.”

“Yea- no can do – you get the widow and-” There is silence over the comm.

“Iron Man!” Steve roars. “Does anyone have eyes on Iron Man?”

“I got eyes on the big guy, his working through some building-” there’s a muted crash.

“-there goes that floor.” Clint’s voice bursts through the silence.

“Is Iron Man with him?” Steve sprints towards the storage unit, leaping over unmoving constructs and half flattened cars.

“Yeah, they just went underground, Captain – incoming.”

 

\---

 

It ends reasonably well, all considering; the team lolls in the living space at Stark Tower. Bruce exhausted from being an enormous rage monster, which had no regards for buildings - sprawls on his back on the living room carpet. Clint and Natasha are on the sofa, legs propped against each other, Clint’s head is tilted back and Steve thinks he might be asleep. Natasha watches TV with disinterest, ever so often yawning and scanning the room to see who was still awake. Steve goes to find Tony – who’s clutching a tumbler of amber liquid and lounging against his work station.

“JARVIS, what’s the damage on the suit?”

 

“Sir, you have once again, outdone yourself.” JARVIS says dryly. “The left leg must be replaced - Captain Rogers is here to see you.”

 

Tony’s head whips around to see Steve standing solemnly outside the workroom glass. Having never been given an access code, Steve waits for JARVIS to let him in. Steve’s face is grim, tired and a shadow of what seemed to be fear covered his eyes.

“Go away mother hen, don’t need to hear it.” Tony waves a hand and turns back to his computers.

“Tony –” Steve knocks against the glass, the hollow sound makes Steve wince. It’s loudness seemingly so inappropriate in this hour of after battle.

“JARVIS, inventory on –” Tony’s faced away from him; Steve could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he leaned his weight against the table. Steve aches at the sight of him, wanting so badly to relief Tony of his burden - maybe even allowing himself to be a source of comfort.

Steve stands determined in his spot, hand pressing against the glass, he knows that if he were to punch it, he could break it – if that meant Tony would stop ignoring him.

“Please open the door, let me talk to you.” Steve calls over the racket of metal Tony’s trying to drown him with.

“Tony. You endangered everyone out there- what you did was reckless and dangerous and I as your Captain have to take responsibility for your actions.” Tony mimics Steve, voice a few octaves too high but the Brooklyn accent is right on.

Steve scowl, embarrassment burning at his face.

“See Capsicle- you don’t need to say a word.” Steve’s hands drop to his side, the weight of it all feels crushing against his shoulders, he was so tired, his shoulders slump. Tony’s still facing away from him, clever hands flying over holographic images. Steve faintly wishes he could be allowed into Tony’s sanctuary, even if there was nothing beyond that. He can just sit in a corner and watch Tony work, maybe draw him. But merely being in Tony’s presence would be enough. Steve frowns to himself.

Steve isn’t sure what to say, if he left Tony now, he would be letting a serious mistake slip – but if he stayed, Tony is obviously angry, not in the mood to talk to Steve, he would accomplish nothing by staying. But Tony needed to know how his actions affect Steve- why? – That nagging voice in the back of his skull reared up – why does he need to know?

“I thought you were hurt.” Steve pressing both of his hand on the smooth surface of the glass, it is cold hard surface unforgiving under his touch, he wishes it was Tony’s skin he was touching.

“I never get hurt –that’s an insult to my creations. JARVIS index on my injuries.” Tony waves a hand towards the ceiling

“Mr. Stark -”

“Stop, Tony- I –” Steve presses his forehead against the glass, overwhelmed by his own tiredness - desperate to be closer to the man on the other side- even if the other obviously did not care for his presence.

“I thought you’d died, when the building fell-” Steve forces the words past the lump in his throat. “I always worry – every time you do something reckless.”

Tony glares at him, “but I’m not dead- see look.” He shoots up from his chairs and does a jumping jack before almost falling over and flopping back on the chair.

“Let me have a look at your leg- please – it could be a serious injury.” Steve pleas.

When Steve had arrived at the storage unit, he was just in time to see it crumble, tons upon tons of concrete and iron collapsing under the weight of the Hulk, and unable to with stand the energy relapsed by the portal, when Tony had closed it. Tony hadn’t gotten out in time; the crumbling storage unit fell onto the suit. Fear, Steve discovered, was like ice water, it spread through his body, freezing him to place for a split second – before he was sprinting towards the rumble. Tossing his shield aside, he pulled and ripped at the heavy blocks until he could see Tony. See the gleaming gold and red of the Iron Man suit, Steve hadn’t realized he was until his breath until then.

The Iron Man suit’s left leg was crushed, the armor bent and twisted out of shape from the weight of the falling concert. Steve was sure that Tony’s leg could not have escaped injury, yet Tony had refused to allow anyone to look at it, insisting it was fine and disappearing into his work shop directly from the Quinjet.

“JARVIS has already looked at it, and the last time I checked, you aren’t a doctor – and you didn’t do so good in high school bio.”

Steve can hear the tone of dismissal in Tony’s voice. There is no point in pushing any further, Tony turns around and ignores Steve’s futile attempts to reason with him. Tony’s pretty sure it’s another hour before Steve leaves, but he isn’t that sure, the music sort of drowns things out.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is in denial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... angst! Yay. Thanks to everyone for reading and feedback is always more than welcome. Please point out mistakes.

Moving on. That’s the term they were using this century. Natasha had told him while she had him pinned to the padded floor of the gym. And Steve had thought that it was time for that - which in 20/20 hindsight might have been a horrible idea.

The man across the small wooden table from him is almost as tall as Steve, wiry muscles peaks out from under his blue t-shirt. He is handsome in a way Steve thinks could be considered dangerous - sharp green eyes and high cheek bones, the way his thin lips twists around his words. He looks nothing like Tony, a small voice Steve represses tries to say.

The guy – Steve can’t recall his name – it was one of those trendy names that had sprung up in the few decades – is talking about building a household.

“I don’t mean to say Subs shouldn’t work, I’d just like it if mine didn’t.” Sharp gaze flickers over Steve, and Steve can see there is something promising in those eyes, he gives a faint bob of his head and sips his coffee to avoid retorting.

“Isn’t it better to bring back the traditional family unit? I like to think of myself as a traditionalist, I want my family to be something my grandparents would have had.” Long slender fingers rakes through his messy brown hair, and the guy leans back further into his chair. Steve could see the careful restraint of power; mimicry of a relaxed posture, the guy was as wound up as it gets, carefully holding back whatever it was that made him so tense. The small coffee shop was busy for a Tuesday afternoon- Steve supposed people had more time for leisure nowadays, with machines doing all the work. There is a small playground across the street and Steve gazes at the stillness of it, it was still too early for children to be out of school.

The guy – Steve really needs to remember his name, lays his right hand carelessly on the table, fingers tapping over his cellphone, eyes expectantly on Steve. _Oh._ Steve has the sudden realization that he’s being asked a question.

Steve smiles and hopes maybe he can pull off the naive act well enough to feign lack of understanding.

“Right.” The brunet draws before causally flipping over his cellphone and sliding his thumb across it a couple of times. Steve takes a minute to gather his thoughts, what is he doing here with this kid? Because that’s what it comes to when it all boils down, the person sitting across the table was born while Steve was under the ice. They have nothing in common, traditional values?

The warm sunlight pouring through the glass windows feels good against his skin and it was pleasant afternoon, Steve just wishes he wasn’t spending it here, with this guy. He frowns slightly, eyes flicking over to the wooden clock behind the counter, a bit after 2:30, if he got out now maybe he can stop by the grocery store and pick up stuff for dinner.

“So.” The man across the table snaps Steve’s mind back to the present. “Why isn’t a man your age with those looks bonded yet? – Is there something wrong with you I should know about?” The question takes Steve off guard, it really shouldn’t have, and Steve has learned that people of this century came in two types, those who are overly blunt and those who aren’t. Still, here is a trickle of irritation sliding up his spin.

He takes a deep breath and holds the guys gaze for a full 5 seconds before the other looks away, back to his cellphone- disinterest evident.

“Just haven’t met the right person I guess,” Steve starts

“Oh yea, I get that.” And he’s off again, Steve sighs inwardly and wonders what he will make for dinner.

Steve bites his lips and tilts his head to feign interest. He faintly wants to tell the poor fellow that there is no such thing as a traditional family, even when he was a kid- there were Subs who worked while their partners went off to fight in the war, and when they didn’t come back, most of them never looked for another, instead preferring to raise their children on their own. He wants to tell him that many people never bonded, instead choosing to settle for whatever they found. He suspects this kid will end up doing the same. Maybe Steve himself will do the same. Maybe he should get a dog. Steve wonders if Tony likes dogs.

 

 ---

 

When seeing other people don’t work out. Steve decides it was time to try another tactic. After all, he is nothing if not a strategist. So, Steve Rogers starts hiding from Tony Stark. The distance isn’t very noticeable at first. Steve simply stops having breakfast in the kitchen. He still makes breakfast for everyone around, but instead of sticking around the kitchen afterwards, he carries his food off to whatever available open space and eats alone. Partly to avoid Tony when he goes into the kitchen on his eternal quest for more coffee, but also, he doesn’t have to meet Tony’s flavor of the week.

Steve stops taking the elevator, in fear Tony might be in it, and that thought terrifies him, being in such a small enclosed space with Tony- being able to feel Tony’s body heat close to him, hear him breath - oh heavens. Steve’s stomach gives nervous quivers every time that thought even came up. So he walks up stairs – yep, all 83 flights of it - it’s good for his legs and lungs.

When he makes dinner, he doesn’t take it to Tony – he just leaves it on the counter - in clean and thermal Tupperware, of course. Can’t let Tony eat cold food now could he?

Steve does all of it in hopes that his stupid body will finally get the point.

He could not be in love with a straight man; he could not be in love with Tony Stark. Steve tries to convince himself that it’s just a physical thing, what could be possibly like about Stark? He was arrogant, he drinks too much, is rude to everyone, tries to sleep with everything that is blonde and has breasts - spent money in such frivolous ways that Steve simply couldn’t tolerate. Who the hell needed that many private islands?

But Tony is also kind, a nagging voice reminds him. He may spend a lot of money, but he is more generous than anyone Steve has ever met. He builds stuff that makes the world better, instead of building what could make him more money. He is selfless in battle, more than once putting himself at risk for the sake of civilians, and let’s not forgets the nuclear bomb incident. But what Steve doesn’t realize beneath all his attempts to create a barrier between himself and Tony Stark, their biology betrays had more than a little to do with it all.

So Steve continued firmly in love with Tony Stark. _Great_.

 

\---

 

Tony wonders into the kitchen Friday morning to see Clint stuffing his face with overly buttered toast, getting crumbs everywhere, DUM-E standing vigil beside him clutching a broom and making a pathetic attempt at cleaning up the mess. Bruce slurps coffee while bending over the table to read something on his tablet, to his left Natasha cleans her gun, eyes fastened on a far wall– seriously- she does that every morning.

Steve is still absent, but just like every morning, there was a machine full of coffee that Steve made- Tony knows because Steve’s coffee taste Christmas-y, he has no idea what goes on with it, but he likes it.

There is breakfast in one of those thermo plate things Tony has, scrambled eggs and toast – Tony squints suspiciously at the tiny green specs in the eggs – it might be spinach, or broccoli – it was green. But he gives a tentative poke with his finger before scooping some up.

Though Steve’s nowhere to be found, Tony always finds breakfast and coffee – and lunch and dinner – regardless of what time it was, Tony could be sure that the coffee machine would be full. It made the genius in him slightly confused.

They obviously did not get along, hell the Cap was not even willing to be in his near vicinity anymore, yet he leaves Tony three meals a day and the Christmas-y coffee is in endless supply.

He shrugs it off – chalking it up to the kid having a tough time with all the neon signs and colors or hot water or something. Maybe everything was too bright for him; Tony stuffs a piece of toast in his mouth and heads back for his workshop.

 

 

\---

 

Steve heaves a sigh and gives up on the book he’s been trying to read. Letting his arm fall heavily to his side, he rolls over to check the time on the glowing digital clock besides his bed, 01:46 reads the blur colored numbers. For a moment, he buries his face in his pillows, sleep having evaded him once again; he rests and listens to the noise from outside the tower. Despite the time; there were still the sounds of life, the rush of cars, and the hollering of the drunken partier. Strangely, it makes Steve feel better, knowing there was life around him, even if his life felt as if it was in suspense animation, and it was a calming thought to know that the lives of others continued. Time waits for no one he supposes.

The want in Steve’s chest never actually goes away. Despite all his efforts in working his body into various states of exhaustion, Steve still found himself awake at night thinking about Tony - or sometimes while he was running, cooking or reading. Often he’d find that he’d spent hours reading the same lines over and over again because his mind had wondered off and fell off a cliff – like tonight.

Steve spreads out on his bed, feeling the softness of the sheets under his body, briefly marveling at the ample space to both his sides. The bed can comfortably fit a few more people. Steve feels a slightly twitch of interest from his cock at the thought of having people in bed with him.

He drifts a bit, mind wandering into one of his favorite scenarios, a faceless figure pressing him hard into the floor. A strong hand twisted into the air at the nap of his neck, holding him- pinning him to the hard floor below him. The faceless Dom would force his legs open, the roughness of his clothes against Steve’s exposed thighs, another hand pushing into him, opening, forcing him to yield- Steve pants slightly and pushes a hand into his cotton pajama pants, fingers wrapping around himself.

The man on top of him would press his body close to Steve’s, heat and power pouring from him – the hard press of metal against his back – the feel of the arc reactor.

Steve’s eyes shoot open and he yanks his hand away from himself. Tony- the faceless Dom was Tony. He groans and sags into the mattress. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, Steve frequently tries to take the edge off himself. He was good at imagining generic faces- strong features, dark hair, hard muscles and power. It’s just, nowadays, seemingly out of his own control- all the men would morph into Tony – the hard press of the arc reactor, the rasp of his goatee, his voice.

Tony is like the sun, Steve thinks. The way Tony takes up an entire room just with his presence, sure the man emitted enough confidence to choke everyone in the vicinity- but he was also vibrant – radiant, and Steve wants nothing more than to be near him. To merely stand in his presence and bask in the glow that is Tony. Steve can’t ignore the way he’s whole body lights up everything Tony’s dark eyes fell on him, every fiber of his being sent into over drive. The way Tony smiled all sharpness and power. Steve couldn’t over look Iron Man in battle- that constant – fortifying presence and it makes him ache.

This is the fifth sleepless night in a roll; Steve’s pretty weary at this point. His eyes feels like they’re filled with sand, his limps are heavy and awkward; Super solder’s may not need a lot of sleep, but no sleep isn’t that great for anyone.

Bruce is the only person in the kitchen when Steve walks in, having unable to drag himself out to jog, he went after the next best thing – food.

Bruce looks as tired as Steve feels, but that didn’t stop Bruce from looking astonished as Steve sits down beside him with a cup of chocolate milk.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so tired.” Bruce studies him. Steve tries for a smile and is pretty sure he doesn’t entirely make it.

“Rough night.”

“No, I know how you look after a rough night, I know how you look after three rough nights – this isn’t it.”

Steve can’t bring himself to speak, but Bruce’s usual mild manner calms his somewhat frayed nerves. The kitchen is eerily quiet, without Clint’s constant commentary and Natasha’s presence, though she never said much, her presence itself was loud. The silence grates against his skin and Steve feels like it’s going to smother him.

“What’s wrong Steve?” The sound of his own name pulls makes Steve lifts his head, he hadn’t been aware that he was staring at his own feet. Bruce peers at him closely, and Steve wants to tell him – it would help to share it with another human being – even if it might make things worse, Steve doesn’t think Bruce would tell Tony. _Or even if he did_ … the thought trails off as Steve becomes painfully aware of his face betraying him. He should lie, Bruce would be polite enough to drop it, but god- Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could bare it. Maybe Bruce would have some insight; yes- maybe Bruce’s logic will help him calm this. Steve’s got to be rational at this point- Steve opens his mouth.

“I- erm, it’s-” he stops unable to find words.

“Is it something with SHIELD?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Is it work or personal?”

“Personal, it’s- a- a person.” Steve stutters before finding himself unable to form more words. “I’m sorry Bruce; I don’t think this would be appropriate.” And he flees the kitchen without looking back- without seeing the sad, knowing expression on Bruce’s face.

 

\---

 

Hope was a powerful thing, it made everything brighter – better, it made people eager and confident of the future. But it was also a poisons thing; it could give out just as much pain – it was a brittle twisted thing to see hope fail, to have to fall apart and slip through the cracks. Steve would know. He’d on held to the hope that after the war, he and Bucky would have a life together, when the fighting was over, they could go home and everything would be alright. He and Bucky had spent so many nights talking about it, planning and dreaming when Steve knew, it was all hope. And when he had lost Bucky that hope had gone with him. It made the pain of not only losing Bucky- but the pain of losing hope, every last bit of it.

And now, it is happening again. Steve knows it is unreasonable, for him to even have hope in the first place, but it came nevertheless- it wormed its way into his brain- into his every waking moment. He would helplessly hope and want – and it burned him from within.

 

\---

They are all gathered in the communal living area of the Tower, after yet another successful mission, Bruce is slumped against Natasha, barely conscious form resting against hers for support. Steve wonders just how close they have become over the last few months, and berates himself quietly for not having seen the change in his teammates – in his friends.

Clint is downing his second bottle of water, his favoring his right side a bit too much.

“Clint, you need to get the medic to examine you.” Steve rests a hand against Clint’s shoulder.

“Nah Captain, I’m ok. Just poke Banner and have him do it.” Clint’s foot reaches out to nudge Bruce’s dangling arm only to have Natasha seize the leg and glare menacingly.  


“Not that kind of doctor.” Bruce mumbles and shifts to sit up.

“Just have J do it – he does it for me all the time.” A voice comes from behind Steve, and he whirs around to see Tony. Now, only wearing a black t-shirt, hair in disarray but smirk firmly in place, Steve can’t help the half grimace he lets show before getting a grasp on his control.

“Tony.” It comes out as a sigh.

Next to Tony stood a slender blonde – bombshell – Steve vaguely recalls Clint teaching him the word. Her body pressed tightly against Tony’s, who has an arm possessively wound about her neck, keeping her in place. She smiles demurely and peeks through her eyelashes at Tony, like she had no eyes for anyone else.

Steve swallows the hot bile that rises to the back of his throat, how Tony had managed to snag her between the Tower and flying ape warriors, Steve would never figure out.

The sight of Tony pressing his face into the girl’s neck had made his stomach cramp up in tight knots. The blonde giggles – it makes her press her breasts even harder against Tony’s side, obviously eager for something.

Steve really can’t stand it; he gives the team a firm nod before retreating back to his own rooms.

He is pretty sure no one noticed how he reacted, but Steve had apparently forgotten that Tony Stark is not the only genius in the tower. Bruce finds him in the gym at 3am killing his fourth heavy bag.

“It’s Tony.” A voice from the doorway.

“Jesus!” Steve jumps back hard enough to put five more feet between him and Bruce, who is standing a couple of feet away, clad in a blue bottom down and looking slightly rumpled.

The other man raises an eyebrow.

“Your person. It’s Tony.” Recalling their conversation from a few nights ago.

Steve doesn’t meet his eyes, he doesn’t even look up to pretend – it is enough for Bruce.

“Steve.” There’s a slight change in Bruce’s voice, something more commanding – harder – firmer to the usually mellowed words.

The coil in Steve’s chest tighten just a bit more, it was a voice of a Dominant, he’s heard it many a time before- that firm command, it made his knees just a bit weaker.

It takes a bit of willpower, but Steve meets Bruce’s glaze, more for a bit of defiance then actual need.

“Kneel for me Steve.” The voice, that voice. It isn’t Tony – but heck his body is so needy – so deprived of a Dom for so long – it wants to obey. Steve locks his knees and focus on the look in Bruce’s eyes.

A soft knowing smile pulls Bruce’s mouth upwards – “I didn’t think that would work anyways. But I still see it.”

“How? How could you?” No one had ever seen it, all that time in the army, after his awakening from the ice. The others in the tower, no one ever guessed – or even suspected.

“The Other Guy – he knows. He can sense things we can’t. If he knows, I know.” Bruce’s words are calm and rounded again, the edge of command – the power subtle again.

The silence hangs for a moment, dead and heavy in the air. Steve doesn’t know what to say – he is a capable tactician sure, but not for this.

“So,” Steve shuffles slightly on his feet, a thin layer of sweat forming on the back of his neck – he rubs at it, eyes still down cast- now that Bruce knew, he doesn’t bother bring himself to pretend.

“Has it been a while?” Bruce doesn’t specify – Steve knows what he means.

“I think – I don’t know, it came on so gradually, but I think I really felt it – after New York. After we all moved in,” It feels like an eternity ago, Steve honesty doesn’t know why it started, or how it started, he couldn’t pinpoint the moment nor explain anything. But it feels like it’s always been like this, he doesn’t remember a time where he didn’t want Tony- didn’t feel the need for Tony burning at the pit of his stomach.

He can remember the feelings for Bucky, remember the same want and need – but he can’t remember a time where he didn’t crave for someone. The need was always there, buried deep inside him; it had burned bright and scorching when Bucky had him, but after, it was just a constant aching hollowness. And now it’s back – that constant –

“Do you plan on acting?”

Steve laughs, “Bruce, have you not met Tony Stark?” he shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine how that conversation would go.”

Bruce looks slightly sheepish, “You got a point- but how could you know for sure if you didn’t try? Steve, you are not a man who can live without a direct answer.”

Steve shakes his head again. “The team would suffer if I – if he rejects me – when he rejects me- I don’t know if, if it got out of hand- Fury would replace me or Tony or everyone. I don’t want to put the team through that, and besides-” Steve tries to smile at Bruce, but it feels woolen. “I’m not his type.”

“So, the plan is to just smoother it? Hold it in and wait for it dissipates on its own? Steve, believe me when I say sometimes don’t just go away because you are ignoring it. There are such things that persist, even if we don’t want it to. There are some problems that we simply have to solve.”

Steve feels the sadness, he hadn’t really thought about it. But as Bruce says it, he realizes yes, that was the plan. To shove that desire so deep into his subconscious that he would eventually let it go. To ignore the want and need until one day it becomes nothing – until he moves on or becomes numb – not the soundest option but Steve was pretty sure it was the only one.

“Yes.” It sounds like a dying breath. Bruce looks like he understands, Steve thinks he might- The Other Guy, Bruce does a fine job holding him in, pushing him back, ignoring the constant tide of emotions. Steve could do this, he had to.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is nice, poor Steve.But things are about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and leaving comments, they are great motivation! 
> 
> Please point out any mistakes.

 

“I’m telling you – it’s the grandpa jokes.” Clint remarks as he and Tony watch Steve scramble off the sofa as soon as Tony flops down on it and scurry out of the room muttering about making dinner.

“It’s like he hates me.” Tony frowns at Steve’s retreating back.

Clint gives a non-committal grunt. “Pretty sure there’s Facebook page and several clubs for that.”

Tony swirls around, “I’ll have you know that I am a very likeable person- it’s true, there are articles about it.” A smug grin spreads over Tony’s face.

Clint sounds like he’s chocking on his laughter.

“Since when does Tony Stark care about what other people think about him?”

Tony lets out a curt huff, “Since when that person is Captain fucking- America – who happens to be able to break everyone in this room in half if he wants to-”

“Oh right, I forgot he was your _teenage idol_.” Clint doesn’t let Tony finish.

Tony’s face twists into a figure of slight disgust. “Never say idol again, never say teenage idol again in your life if you don’t want your arrows to start targeting your soft parts and random grannies.”

Clint cackles as Tony looks indignant.

 “I’m gonna get that kid to love me. He is going to feel the full force of Tony Stark.”  Tony says

Clint eyes him wearily as Tony props his feet up on the coffee table and waves a hand in no direction whatsoever.

“J- time to order some art supplies.”

Steve braces his hands against the cool marble counter top and heaves a breath. That had been too obvious. Clint certainly noticed- Tony too. He didn’t really plan for it to be this obvious, but well; when there is a tower of geniuses and super assassins- everything gets a bit harder. Steve had thought maybe a couple of weeks of keeping away from Tony could calm his nerves a bit – give him the space he needs to get himself together. _And stop being pathetic._

“JARVIS.” Steve exhales and pushes himself upright again. “What are we having for dinner?”

“Good evening Captain Rogers. We shall begin with a turkey salad with clementine dressing.”

Steve stoops in front of the refrigerator and pulls out a couple of the orange colored fruit.

“Followed by pan-fried chicken in mushroom sauce as your main dish –”

Steve looks up at the ceiling and frowns slightly. “JARVIS.” He interrupts.

“Yes sir?”

“Can we change the main dish? Tony doesn’t like mushrooms.”

_Goddamn it._

 

 ---

 

 

Steve halts as he enters his room, sweaty from his time in the gym. He pulls off his t-shirt and uses it to wipe his face as he examines the new object in the middle of his bedroom.

 “Good morning Captain Rogers.” JARVIS greets him.

Steve glances up at the ceiling, he still hasn’t gotten used to the fact that JARVIS isn’t a real person - “Good morning JARVIS. Where did this come from JARVIS?”

“It is a gift from Mr. Stark; he will be here shortly to explain to you Captain.”

Steve’s brain promptly goes into overload. A gift from Tony? It isn’t his birthday- granted, Steve doesn’t think Tony actually knew anyone’s birthday. Why was this here? He glances at it again, it is beautiful.  A piece of furniture, dark hand rubbed oak crafted into a smooth and sturdy easel – it was breathtaking- every detail perfect. Steve had used to dream about having one of these, but could never afford it.  He trails a finger alone the smooth wood. It’s smooth to his touch, not a single imperfection.

Steve gives the easel a suspicious glance, maybe it was a prank? Maybe it’ll explode and cover Steve’s room little robots that covered everything with glitter or something. 

The door opens and Tony steps into the room, obviously coming straight from his workshop- he is barefoot, wearing sweats and a holey t-shirt. He looked ragged and tired – probably from lack of sleep. God, Steve wanted to press against him, smell him – Tony probably smells like machine oil and explosions- and that hint of musk beneath it all.

“I see you found your new toy.” Tony nods at the easel, his voice promptly snapping Steve out of his daydream.

Steve must look extremely confused as Tony points at the easel and lifts an eyebrow.

“Where did it come from?” Steve feels a little dumb judging by the way Tony’s looking at him.

“I bought it for you – actually JARVIS did- but it was my idea.” He slurps the coffee Steve had not realized he is holding.

Steve frowns at the offending object, it was an amazing piece of work – it couldn’t have been cheap. Tony spent money on him, thought about him – remembered that Steve painted. A shiver runs up Steve’s back and he feels the coil of heat spreading through his chest, it felt like he’d swallowed burning embers- but instead of pain- it spread a perfect glow of pleasure within him.

“Is it ugly or something? Don’t you like it?” Tony stares at him. “I know- I know jackshit about art, but it was the most expensive one in the city so I figured it had to be good.”

Steve almost chokes; “Most expensive?”

His brain is desperately trying to gather itself so he could wrap his head around the idea; the haze of warm pleasure makes it hard.

 “Why did you buy me this?” Now he frowns at Tony, who regards him with amusement.

“Because you need a fucking easel, god knows you won’t spend money on it – you old people are cheap. I know you can afford it, 70 years of back-pay and all.”

“Yes, but _why_ did _you_ buy _me_ an easel.”

“Look Steve, I know your smarter than you look – I mean you’re blond and all but seriously-” Tony rolls his eyes. “Anyways, enjoy, make pretty stuff and show it to Pepper- she’s been ranting about needing new stuff to hang on walls and stuff.”

And then Tony is gone, leaving Steve to stare agape at his back. So, Tony Stark bought Steve an easel - nothing wrong with that.

 

\---

 

Steve wanders into the library a few days later, intent on getting some reading done. Stark Tower has such an impressive collection of books, even though no one besides Steve ever went into the library. It’s pretty extensive. Steve picks up another biography and goes to settle in his usual spot on the floor by the window when he notices the space’s gone. And occupying it is a new piece of furniture.

Steve thinks it looks like a sleek grey sofa – actually – that’s not a sofa. It looks like a sofa, but calling it a sofa might have been an insult. This is- so much more. It’s sleeker, sophisticated, a single broad cushion propped at the back on the sofa while the rest of it was smooth and straight.

Shrugging it off as Pepper’s redecorating, Steve flops down on to it. Despite its sleek and modern appearance, Steve finds himself sinking into its softness. He sighs contently and gets to his book.

Steve’s eyes snap open as he senses a presence above him. He lurches into a sitting position to see Tony stand there, smirking down at him.

“Comfortable?”

Dressed in another of what Steve assumes to be a several thousand dollar suit, Tony’s sunglasses are pushed into his hair. Steve realizes he is staring when Tony snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s eyes.

“Earth to captain America.”

“Sorry.” Steve slurs.

“I will take those drool makes on the cushions as your seal of approval then.” Tony smiles at him now, dark eyes warm and penetrating.

“Sorry. I didn’t know if this was decoration or actually for people to sit on. But it looked comfortable enough.” Steve looks for drool stains sheepishly.

“I know. It’s for you; I got tired of watching you fall asleep on the floor. It can’t be good for your old bones.”

“What?”

Steve feels like a slow child and Tony is turning away again.

“Wait. Why did you buy this for me?”

“Old people should t sleep on floors.”

And Tony is gone. Again.

 

\---

 

Thor is lounging comfortably on the living room couch when Steve walks in the room. Something playing on the flat screen TV, Steve drops down next to the bigger man.

“What are you watching?” Steve props his feet up on the coffee table next to Thor’s.

“I think…” Thor says “It is called Mythbusters- it appears they are discovering the likelihood of the survival of one called Jack together with Rose. Though I do not understand why they are making a false body.”

Steve watches in silence besides Thor for a few minutes before it dawns on him.

“Oh! They are trying to prove if Jack could have survived with Rose on that board.”

“I do not understand.” Thor looks at Steve.

“Here, I’ll explain- this is one of the first movies Clint and Natasha made me watch when I got unfrozen. I’m surprised they didn’t force it on you.” Steve explains gleefully- finally being able to spread the woe that was _Titanic_ onto someone else.

Steve’s half way through the movie when a pair of bright red boots falls onto his lap. He tilts his head up sharply to see Tony beaming down at him.

“Tony.” Steve inspects the boot. “Are these my boots?”

“Yes.” Tony sounds ecstatic.

Before Steve gets another word out of his mouth, Tony launches into action.

“You are always moaning about being the only one who can’t really fly- even though Barton and Natasha can’t. So, I thought I’d fix it. Tada!” Tony flourishes an arm at the boots.

“You made me flying boots?!” Steve asks- incredulous.

“No- flying boots don’t happen Cap- I could make you fly but just the boots won’t do it. I did put some nitro propellers into them so you can run go race Sonic-” He trails off at both Steve and Thor’s puzzled expressions.

“Oh hell,” Tony facefalms himself. “Put them on.”

“In the living room?”

“Don’t sound so scandalized, I said put on the boots not stripe down to your birthday suit.”

Steve flushes at the thought of being naked in front of Tony but he kicks off his shoes anyways.

 

 ---

 

The thing was Steve doesn’t really understand by Tony is being so nice, if he didn’t know better, he would think Tony was hitting on him in a very Tony way. He remembered the story Pepper had told them about the giant rabbit for Christmas. Gift giving was Tony’s way of showing affection, but Steve doesn’t understand by Tony is showing _him_ affection.  Sure, they’re friends – sorta kinda.

He has to stop; Steve needs Tony to go back to the way he was. Steve could take the fighting, hidden innuendos and snark, but Tony being this nice is putting him through hell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evil wizards. They happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I think I may have messed up the POV. Oh hell.
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading and commenting. they are great motivation.  
> please point out mistakes. evil wizard scrambled my brains.

 

 

It thunderstorms the day that the wizard comes to New York City.

Wizards. Steve never thought this day would come. Mutants are fine. World domination freak robots are ok.  Hell, even though flying ape warriors a couple of weeks ago are understandable.  But a wizard?  A cape wearing- staff wielding – wizard. Steve would have thought the guy was just nuts if he hadn’t seen the blasts of magic. Not to mention the shapeless constructs flying all over the place. Picking up people and dropping them. Crashing into stores and reeking general havoc. The guy’s dealing out some sort of magic too- they aren’t sure what it is yet, but all it looks like was blares of red that made people act a bit strangely. Well, as long as they aren’t bleeding profusely from their eyes, Steve really doesn’t chalk it up as it anything too horrid.

Steve hops over a fallen lamp post and looks up searchingly at the sky- eyes squinted against the heavy rain. In the distance, he can hear the swopping of flying figures and the thud of impact mildly muffled by the ruble of thunder.

“This magician,” Thor gasps “is genuine. Though not one who is very strong, his magic reminds me of Loki’s magic as a child.” His hammer connects with a swooping construct. It promptly dissolves into thin air, Thor grunts in mild frustration.

“You sure this isn’t Loki?” Steve ducks a flying tire and throws his shield over Thor’s blond head. “What kind of magic is this?”

“I am certain Captain. This magic feels like child’s play- it’s full of mischief and jest.”

Steve steps on something soft and squishy, he looks down.

“Was that a toad?!” he asks as another soft flop lands on his upraised shield.

Thor gives out a joyous laugh and Steve turns around to stare at him mouth gaping open as little green and brown toads began to fall over New York City, they landed with soft flops and bounced away.

“I am sorry Captain, but it has been a very long time since I have seen this trick.”

“Trick?”

“Yes, it’s a very common one amongst magical beings, it’s lighthearted play among the young magicians - Loki adored this one when we were children. He would frequently make it rain toads in the Allfather’s banquet hall.”

Steve steps on another one of the little toads, he grimaces and looks down expecting to see toad innards all over his boot but instead, there is only a clean green ectoplasm.

“They aren’t real toad Captain Rogers- you need not fear for killing them. They are mere constructs; magicians are able of conjuring up everything one can imagine. When we were children-” Thor doesn’t get to finish his sentence

“Guys- sorry to interrupt your friendly afternoon chat- but the evil wizard just grabbed Legolas. Now that’s something I never thought I’d say.” Tony’s voice comes through over the com.

Steve curses as he and Thor moves into motion to where Clint had been seen last.

“Any one got sight on Hawkeye?” Natasha’s voice now.

“They are heading for the tower to our left. Oh god- the evil wizard is taking his captive to a tower. Barton is a princess.” Tony cracks.

“Less chatter!”

Steve glances over to make sure Thor’s still beside him. They amble up 90 flights of stairs in no time to see the wizard standing on the roof top, pale face split in a grin – it isn’t an evil grin- but the cape may have made it sinister. His staff is pointed towards the sky- Clint isn’t really moving. His motionless body at the wizard’s feet worries Steve. It worries Thor too; Steve can see the deepening frown on his face.

“Captain.” Thor points with his hammer at the constructs lurking around the buildings ledge. “I shall hold off those creatures while you retrieve Barton.”

Steve nods and charges forward.

 Neither of them sees the figure of the real wizard from behind them nor the incoming red beam that strikes Steve square in the back.

 

 

 ---

 

 

Steve wakes to warmth and pleasure. It’s a feeling he doesn’t remember having often. He isn’t cold, there is no pain of injures, no ache of battle, and the weight which had been crushing him for the past few months is gone. He allows himself to wallow in the warm bliss for an instant before he opens his eyes. There is a humming pleasure in his mind, and he can’t help the smile that spreads as he pushes himself up.

 “Ok, he’s alive.” Tony exclaims and sits down besides Steve.  

Steve looks up and realizes they had been watching him, though now they scatter all over the room. Tony has a hand over his eyes and Bruce is putting a kettle on the stove. Natasha and Clint are pulling off their armor and weapons right there in the living room and stacking an astonishing amount of weapons on the coffee table for two people who wore spandex.

“What happened?”  Steve asks the room.

“Evil wizard got you with his red beam of death.” Clint explains from the floor.

“Steve.” Bruce looks at him, inquisitive eyes searching over him. “How do you feel?”

Steve exhales a content sigh, “I-” he looks over at Tony again. “I feel good.” It feels incredible- Steve is dimly aware of something, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.  The pleasure is like a dense mist, he can feel it clinging to his skin, seeping into his thoughts.

He can’t pull his gaze away from Tony, so close to himself, the strength of the other body- the quiet power- Steve wants so badly to press against it – and inhale Tony.

Bruce gives a tiny cough as the room goes unnaturally quite. They all watch as Steve pushes his body closer to Tony and leans into the other man’s space. Head resting on the crook of Tony’s neck, chest pressing against Tony’s left arm. Tony goes uncharacteristically still.

“Um, guys.” His right hand is waving wildly at Steve, whose face is a picture of serenity as he presses harder against Tony. Breaths coming in deep and even, eyes closed as if in sleep.

“Steve.” Natasha says.

“Hm?” Steve sighs against the soft skin. There is only absolute bliss, he feels calm for the first time in very long time- calm and steady. And his eyes snap open and the realization dawns on him. He was firmly pressed against the other man’s body- so close; he could smell the musk of Tony’s sweat and the scent of metal from the armor. Brown eyes studying him in curiosity and barely disguised discomfort.

He pulls sharply away from Tony- head spinning at the lost. Bruce looks worried as Clint tries his damnest not to laugh too loud.

“I’m sorry.” Steve fumbles over his words. “I don’t know- oh my god. Tony, that was very inappropriate of me. I am so sorry.” He scoots back another couple of inches to give Tony some personal space. While every fiber of him screams at Steve to get back to Tony at once. Steve pushes himself against the opposite arm of the sofa, straining against staggering urgency to get closer to Tony again.

“Don’t worry about it. You get to be a bit wonky after getting blasted by an evil wizard.”  Tony pats him gently on a shoulder and gets up from the couch; Steve can tell he is still tense from the way he moves. And Steve feels like crap.

“So, what happened exactly?” Steve is dimly aware of how hungry he is.

“Well,” Bruce says.

“You and Thor rushed to get me.” Clint and the others watch carefully as Steve gets up from the couch and moves towards the kitchen.

“But the guy on the rooftop had an illusion up, so you guys charged the illusion and the real guy was hiding behind a veil.”

Steve nods as he pulls open cupboards and the fridge snatching up packages and containers.

“Then you got zapped by this red light and fell over and everybody freaked out and here we are.” Tony finishes as he pours himself a drink.

“Did anyone figure out what the magic he was shooting around actually did?” Steve is back on the couch. He is barely aware of the appalled look on Bruce’s face and the solemn regard on Natasha’s.

“What?” He asks around a mouthful of food.

“Steve, you are eating-” Bruce tries to start before Clint loses it completely and lets out a laugh.

“Doritos and ice cream?” Tony asks from behind looking just as appalled.

“Dude- that is disgusting.” Clint wipes a hand across his eyes.

“Since when do you eat Doritos? Or ice cream?” Tony asks down at him.

“I-” Steve looks down puzzled at the large open package of chips and the whole container of strawberry ice cream- he didn’t even get a spoon. He can’t really remember making the choice of getting Doritos and ice-cream, actually- he can’t remember getting the food at all from the kitchen. But by God it made him so happy, his own being strummed with pleasure as he takes another bite and shrugs.

“We don’t know what the magic actually does yet, Thor’s gone off to play detective- he should be back pretty soon.”

So they watch in abject horror as Steve devours the atrocity he called a snack.

 

\---

 

Steve isn’t very aware when Thor returns to the tower. He isn’t aware of the tension that has settled over his teammates and the living room. He’s sitting on the floor besides the couch, knees tucked under his body and one of cheeks rested firmly against Tony’s thigh. He is only aware of the pleasure strumming against every nerve, that burning pain he had grown so used to was gone- in its place contentment glows brightly. Everything is pleasure to Steve, the heat of Tony’s leg against his skin, the gratification of kneeling here. He doesn’t think about it, he just knows – he just feels. It’s what he wants, what he desires and he has it. The simplicity of it all makes him so happy.

Thor looks around the room at his teammates; Tony’s sitting stiffly, a tumbler of amber liquid clutched in one hand, with Steve at his feet. Bruce is watching the pair with growing worry. Clint and Natasha’s gazes shift between the TV and Steve.

“Hey buddy,” Tony greets Thor with forced casual ease.

Thor regards Steve for a moment, and then shifts back to Tony.

“How fairs the Captain?” He asks.

“We aren’t sure; I mean he hasn’t really moved for about an hour.” Tony sips his drink, though slumped in the sofa; Tony is obviously tense despite the numbers of drinks he’s had.

“Jarvis says that his vitals are normal, he isn’t physically hurt or anything. He is just-” Bruce looks pointedly at Steve’s motionless figure on the floor.

“In this case, I may have the answers to our dilemma.” Thor stomps over to the couch and sits down a small distance away careful not to disturb the blond man’s peace.

“It would appear, the spell which the Captain is under, is known as Heart’s Contentment.” Thor pauses, blond brows knotting together as he regards Steve.

“What does that mean?” Bruce asks. Natasha and Clint shifts over to make a small uneven circle, Natasha a blank mask of regard while Clint looks confused.

“Is it one of those things that makes the person realizes their deepest and darkest desires and what they have always wanted in life?”  Clint chimes in and Tony looks terrified at that aspect.

“No. It is nothing so grave. It is a mere trickster spell – it is a simple design to be told. The spell simply removes the inhibitions of its - sufferers. Allowing them to do what they crave- without being hindered by their own thoughts or judgment.” Thor explains.

“What does that mean for us?” Natasha asks

 “Fuck what it actually means. How do I make it stop?” Tony’s voice is tinged with barely concealed panic.

“I think what Thor is trying to say is that Steve is simply doing everything he wants.” Bruce looks to Thor, who nods, for confirmation.

“So, you are telling me, that Captain fucking America-  the fucking American Icon of righteous purity has a deep craving for dipping Doritos and strawberry ice cream, beer and whipped cream floats and kneeling at my feet?!” There is a touch of hysteria in Tony’s voice.

“It would appear so. I am afraid I do not know how to stop it. We must wait until the spell subsides on its own.” Thor replies.

A hush blankets the room as they look silently at one another and then at their team leader. Steve looks blissful and content, like there is nothing he’d rather do and no where he’d rather be. It would also appear that he isn’t listening to the conversation at all.

Then their attention drifts over to Tony, whose fingers have gone white from the grip he’s got around the tumbler. Panicked brown eyes stared at Steve as if trying to convey a wordless message. There’s a slight twitch in his legs.  The tension in the room grows and snaps all of a sudden as Tony bolts up from his seat on the sofa and all but runs away into the elevator.

Steve jolts upright by the loss of contact; he’s startled and upset for a split second before he pulls himself together and sits upright.

“Yea?” Steve shakes his head and rubs at his eyes as if trying to shake off the haze of sleep. “What happened? How long was I asleep?”

“Steve.” Bruce looks down at him. Steve is only dimly aware of his surroundings, of the people gathered around him. It takes a couple of minutes before his brain is back on track and he can meet their eyes and carry out a conversation.

 “You weren’t asleep Steve, at least, not really.”

“Oh.” Steve looks at the rest of the room in confusion.

Clint turns to Thor in bewilderment. “Why is he like this? He wasn’t like this a couple of hours ago- it’s like he’s high or something.”

Thor lifts one broad shoulder in a half shrug. “I think, it may be that the spell grows stronger with time. I cannot say for sure. But I do that it will not last for very long only a day or two.”

Steve continues to stare blankly into the middle distance as Bruce gently tries to recapture his attention.

 

\---

 

Steve doesn’t understand what they are trying to tell him at first. The urge to get up from the floor and find Tony overwhelms him, trying to understand what Bruce and Thor are trying to explain to him makes him uneasy. It’s like trying to breathe while someone covered his face with a wet blanket, he stares at them- eyes unfocused and pushes himself up.

A heavy hand rests on his shoulder. A significant weight pushes him back down into a sitting position. Steve looks back to see Thor eyeing him gravely.

“Steve.” Bruce’s voice penetrates the haze and Steve finally meets his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Steve says, voice filled with insecurity. “I can’t seem to focus on anything. I need- I need to get up. I need-” Steve tries to move again. “I _need_ -” His heart beats franticly in his chest- he needs to find Tony. He needs to be near the other man- needs to kneel beside him and be within that subtle power. The need is all that he feels, it clogs up his senses- rendering him breathless and dizzy.

“Steve. I need you to pay attention to what we are trying to tell you.” Bruce again.

Steve is aware of movement to his left as Natasha sits down beside him and puts her hand firmly on his knee. Her silent strength joining together with Thor’s to keep Steve still on the sofa.

“Steven.” Thor calls him. “You must make an effort. What Dr. Banner will say to is of the utmost importance.”

Steve sometimes forgets that one of his friends is a God, and there is something in Thor’s voice that stills him. He nods the barest fraction and swallows around the lump of terrified anxiety crowding his throat.

“You are being manipulated, under a spell.” Bruce is using that voice people reserved for the insane and scared animals. Steve frowns at him.

“What kind of spell?” Steve gasps. Oh God, the urgency to find Tony is clawing at his skull- taking away every rational though he has barely got a grasp on. It’s a fleeting second before everything is gone and the demand to fulfill his desire has overtaken everything. Steve can’t focus any longer- he just knows- it isn’t important. Whatever they are trying to tell him, it could wait.

“It’s called Heart’s Contentment.  It basically removes all your logical and rational inhibitions and makes you do only what you desire - regardless of consequence.” Bruce’s explanation is lost to Steve whose eyes were again unfocused.

“I don’t think you will be able to get through to him like this.” Natasha says.

Bruce heaves a deep sigh. “Someone go talk to Tony before he freaks out. I think we have to let the spell run its course.”

They all watch as Steve frees himself from Thor’s grip and gets into the elevator for Tony’s workshop.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
